


Chaos

by AnselaJonla



Series: Prompt fills [41]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23091895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnselaJonla/pseuds/AnselaJonla
Summary: A fic written for a prompt on the r/WritingPrompts subreddit:[SP] "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."
Series: Prompt fills [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1097823





	Chaos

I look at the absolute _chaos_ that is spread out before me. I can hear a few mutters of disapproval about my choice of language, but I don't care. There are times and places for swear words, and this is _definitely_ one of them. I can hear even more people repeating my words, or those with similar sentiments. I jam the base of my thumb into my mouth (yum, blood) to muffle my continued swearing.

In the distance I can hear those responsible being apprehended. More swearing and the sounds of a scuffle filter through the usual background sounds. That is of no matter. I have no part in those proceedings. Security can deal with those little hoodlums.

Today was just a normal day, more or less. I got a call last night asking me to pick up a few shifts here as a matter of urgency, after noro gutted this store's staffing levels to where the manager didn't have enough people to handle daytime replenishment _and_ keep an acceptable number of tills open. Seriously people, if you're spewing from both ends _fucking stay home_.

I showed up, and the very relieved manager asked me to do my best to keep the seasonal aisle looking well-stocked. Have you got any idea how much work it takes to keep Easter eggs looking full, even when Easter is over a month away? And this isn't helped by the aisle's proximity to the hazard that is the booze section. As the only member of staff (temporary or not) anywhere _near_ that gallery of glass bottles, I'm constantly having to investigate any potential smashes that I hear down those three aisles.

Which brings me to the current mess. A bunch of teenagers, not in school because _that's_ closed for a deep clean (hey, parents, sometimes your kid _is_ telling the truth about not feeling well) came in to cause mischief. Boredom, lack of adult supervision, and teenage mob mentality are a dangerous combination. It doesn't normally result in _this_ , however.

I absently snag the collar of a small child who's heading past me. Not today, kiddo. Go play in a different aisle. Try number eight, that's the pet aisle. There's squeaky toys there. Those are always popular with kids. _No one_ is going down this aisle yet.

I'm used to clearing up messes. There's so much glass in a supermarket, and during refits it's common to break things by accident. Shitty flimsy cardboard trays and six foot shelves don't _always_ go together. But this is beyond what I'm used to. This is worse than the time that we found out that a trolley didn't have a backstop on its flappy bit _after_ it was filled to the brim with wine bottles. This is worse than the time that the top shelf of a full wine fridge collapsed due to a poorly inserted bracket, taking out every shelf under it on its way down.

I take my hand out of my mouth briefly to check on it. Yep, still bleeding. Flying glass is just an absolute _delight_ to deal with. Hopefully those little shits are covered in cuts. Luckily no real customers were in the aisle at the time. Just me, and a bunch of teenagers who thought that causing property damage is a great way to spend an afternoon.

I hear the unmistakable rattle of empty stock cages moving at the back of the store, as a manager slumps next to me. He sighs the deep sigh of someone who is just a hundred percent _done_ with the day. I don't envy him the job he's got now. I don't even know where I would _start_ with this. I mean, how do you go about figuring out just how many bottles of wine to write off when they're lying in a million sodden pieces. They're on the floor, on the shelves, under the gondolas on both sides... I think some bits of glass are in my _hair_ even. I know there's at least one piece in my hand. I'm perfectly happy to leave that where it is for now. One free bleeding cut at a time, thank you very much.

And yep, it's still bleeding. Back in my mouth it goes.

The slight movement of checking my hand draws the manager's attention to me. I don't think he properly saw me before. He looks horrified. I don't look _that_ bad, do I?

Huh? What? Oh... apparently my face is bleeding. I didn't notice. Now he's said it, my face does sting a bit. Isn't that always the way, you don't notice a cut until someone points it out to you?

Someone tugs on my arm. I'm being led away. I let them lead me to the first aid room. There's still shouting coming from the security room, further down the corridor. I see the flashing of blue lights drawing close as we pass a window.

_Good_. I hope the book is thrown at those idiots.

I mean, you have _got_ to be fucking kidding me if you think it's acceptable to go into a supermarket and start smashing up the wine aisle.


End file.
